


Melancholies

by Philosophizes



Series: Bad Decisions Series Backstory Fics [21]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Adults, Children, Gen, Humans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-30
Updated: 2013-01-30
Packaged: 2017-11-27 14:45:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/663207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Philosophizes/pseuds/Philosophizes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The 2047 Winter Olympics are being held in Taliin. Usually, the Opening Night party is one if the Nations' few opportunities to have a (mostly) non-political social function, which means it is (mostly) free of drama; but, well-</p><p>This year, all the problems are in the family.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Melancholies

Armas Oxenstierna looked over and noticed that his father’s glass was empty. Without talking about it, he picked up the current bottle of the smuggled-in-the-luggage Koskenkorva Viina they were working on, filled it most of the way, and then topped it off with some Akvavit from the blackmailed Swedish cross-country skiing team.  
  
“ _Kiitos_ ,” Finland muttered, and downed a good fourth of the glass.  
  
It wasn’t that the designated ‘Visiting Dignitaries and Guests’ hotel’s bar had _bad_ alcohol. Sometimes you just needed things from home.  
  
“Wassat?” someone else asked.  
  
 _"Hyvä vahva viina!"_ Finland declared.  
  
America shrugged as best he could while drunk.  
  
“Hivava Hyena. Thasscool. Gimme some.”  
  
Armas very carefully poured the rest of the bottle into America’s half-full, trembling glass of beer.  
  
 _"Ei enemmän viina!"_ Finland moaned, and dropped his head to the bar counter.  
  
“S’okay,” Sweden said, patting him unsteadily on the back. “St’ll got Akvavit.”  
  
 _" **Perkele** Akvavit!"_  
  
“Yo, barman!” Lucas Jones called. “More whiskey!”  
  
Estonia, for two weeks the world’s host, beat the barman to them.  
  
“Cocktails instead?” he offered, holding out a glass.  
  
Finland grabbed it immediately and dumped it in his mouth.  
  
And spat it out all over the floor.  
  
 _"Sirppi ja vasara!"_ he screeched. _"Älä juo sitä!"_  
  
“Perhaps you’d like just the Vana Tallinn, instead?” their host asked, producing a bottle from somewhere.

* * *

 

“S’good t’buy local!” America declared, and snatched it. His son made a feeble attempt for the bottle and gave up, settling for his father’s beer-and- _viina_ concoction instead.  
  
Estonia slipped into the space between America and Finland and leaned on the bar counter carefully.  
  
“How are you doing, Timo?” he asked.  
  
 _“Pääministeri on kuollut! Murhattu!”_  
  
”I _know_ your Prime Minister was murdered. I want to know how _you’re_ dealing with it.”  
  
”’E’s dealing,” Sweden assured him.  
  
“ _Vikani_ ,” Timo sobbed. “ _Vikani_ , _vikani_ , _vikani_ -”  
  
“N’t y’r fault, Timo,” his lover replied.  
  
“ _Vikamme_!”  
  
“N’t our fault, either. Eluf’s his own p’rson.”  
  
 _“Right!”_ America exclaimed. “S’Cananadia’s fault! S’All _his_ fault! Fuckin’ _Mounties!_ ”  
  
“Damn _straight,_ ” his son moaned. “Carri _eeeeee_ … I _miss_ ya, Carrie… _Carmen…_ ”  
  
Estonia winced.  
  
“I’m sorry about your daughter, America,” he said.  
  
“Dunbe l’that, Eduard,” Alfred mumbled. “Carrie hattedta see peeee…people hurtin’. S’why we’re nuthurtin’! We’re _drinkin’!_ ”  
  
“T-To Carmen Peláez Jones!” Lucas exclaimed, holding his glass aloft. Most of the drink spilled out. “W-Who never should’ve joined t-the Mounties!”  
  
 _“GOD FUCK THE MOUNTIES!”_  
  
“All right, that’s _it,_ ” the formerly-unnoticed Canada said, standing up and slamming his glass down on the bar. “I’m taking him back to his room before he causes another Diplomatic Incident.”  
  
America’s brother hauled him off his bar stool and pulled the other Nation’s arm over his shoulder.  
  
“C’mon, Al, let’s get you upstairs without falling and breaking something, eh?”  
  
“W’nt Carrie back,” Alfred mumbled, thumping his brother’s shoulder weakly. “Give ’er back. Gimme m’daughter back.”  
  
“I wish I could, Al,” Canada told him. “I would if I could. But she’s dead.”  
  
“Fuck. Baster… basterred. Fuckin’ bas- _tard._ Canananandia. Canna- Mattwo. Matt. Mattie. Fuckin’ bastard Mattie. Hate ‘im. Hate ya. Hate _ya,_ Matthew. Yatook m’daughter.”  
  
“Fucking bastard Canada!” Lucas agreed happily, staggering after them.  
  
Matthew looked at his brother and nephew sadly.  
  
“I love you, too.”  
  
“T’rgets,” America said as he was dragged off. “F’ckin’ _tar-_ gets. M’nties. R’d suits. Onnan _‘orse!_ F’rsttaget _shot_ andda _die. Fuck_ ya.”

* * *

“Good luck tomorrow!” Estonia called after them, and took America’s vacated bar stool.  
  
“Timo, drinking isn’t going to solve your problem.”  
  
 _“Ei voi ratkaista!”_  
  
“It only _technically_ can’t be solved-”  
  
“I smell _vodka!_ Give it to me!”  
  
 _“Ei votkaa!”_ Finland screamed. _“VIINA!”_  
  
 _" **Vodka!** ”_ Ukraine snarled. _“Give it to me.”_  
  
 _“EI VOTKAA!”_ Finland screamed again, and half-lunged, half-fell off his bar stool.  
  
Sweden, who wasn’t nearly as drunk as his wife-husband, caught him and quickly poured what was left of everyone’s drinks into one glass, which he handed to Ukraine.  
  
“Here. Have a c'cktail. Is it Bel’rus?”  
  
Kateryna, who was clearly half-drunk already, started crying.  
  
“Sh-Sh-Sh-She’s worse!” she wailed. “All the time, she’s _worse! Miy sestra! Miy sestra ye umyraye!_ ”  
  
 _“Hän on vankilassa; hän on murhaaja!”_  
  
 _“Natalya!”_  
  
 _“Sydämeni,”_ Timo whimpered. _“Se satuttaa, se satuttaa,_ Berwald, _tee se pysäytä…”_  
  
Berwald hugged his wife-husband and rubbed little soothing circles on his back.  
  
“Eluf,” Timo sobbed. “Eluf, Eluf, Eluf, _poikani; why_ did you kill him?”  
  
“He thought y'ur Prime Min’ster was h’rtin’ ya,” Sweden reminded him. “S’….”  
  
“It wasn’t his fault my economy’s _paska_!” Finland cried. “My son killed my _boss!_ "  
  
The alcohol finally kicked in, and he passed out.  
  
Eduard decided now would be a good time to check on Greece.

* * *

“It’s not-”

A cough.

“-that big a deal,” Greece insisted.

“But _Patέras_ ,” his son tried to say.

“I’ll be fine. I’m just a _little_ sick. I’ve had worse.”

“ _Please_ don’t let it get worse,” Germany pleaded. “My economy still hasn’t fully recovered from _last_ time; and we’re already having problems with Finland.”

“You can shut _up._ ”

“ _Patέras_ , irritating my extended family isn’t going to make my situation in Naples any easier,” Nikephoros said quietly. “Even if it’s _really_ extended and my father-in-law doesn’t _actually_ like him.”

“And let _me_ into the EU,” Turkey said pointedly. “I’ve been waiting for like a _century_ over here!”

“It’s been sixty- _three_ years, and we’ve had this conversation already. Multiple times.”

“Then let me in already!” he demanded, slamming his fist on table.

Greece smacked him for shaking the table, and by extension his teeth.

“You’re not European enough. It’s the _European_ Union.”

“I have territory in Europe! I’ve been part of European history for centuries!”

“By _fighting_ us.”

“ _Patέras_ , please leave him alone.”

Germany sighed and hoped that his headache wasn’t a symptom of Finland and Greece’s economic troubles catching on. That would be a _disaster._

“Turkey, you _know_ the situation-”

“You all voted for Moldova as a full member. _Moldova!_ You’d said he was too _poor!_ ”

“Turkey; France, Spain, and Poland all think that you don’t belong in the EU,” Germany explained patiently. “Italy is split and the UK doesn’t care enough to press the issue either way. I can’t work without France’s cooperation, and Spain and Poland could create a large voting bloc all by themselves even if we _were_ in agreement on this. If Italy or England sided with me, or just one of them stayed out of the issue and the other sided, _then_ maybe-”

 “So what, I’m not Arab enough for the Middle East and not European enough for all of you?”

“Essentially,” Ludwig admitted.

“Fuck being the cultural crossroads of Europe and Asia,” Sadiq decided.

“Stop _talking,_ ” Heracles moaned. “You’re making my cold worse!”

“But _Patέras_ , I have news for you! And Germany too, I guess.”

“You’re making it worse all by yourself!”

“I am _not!_ ” Greece snapped. “What is it, Niki?”

“Ditta’s pregnant.”

* * *

Across the room, Veneziano sneezed violently.  
  
Romano shoved a tissue in his face.  
  
“Point your damn face somewhere else if you’re going to do that!” he snapped.  
  
“Ughhhh… _Lovino,_ I think Greece is _catching._ ”  
  
“The fuck, it feels like _that?_ ”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
He blew his nose. It made a wet sort of snort.  
  
“ _Dio mi protegge_ ,” Romano muttered, and moved his chair further away from his brother’s in a symbolic act of economic defiance.  
  
“What does it feel like?” Sonnehilde asked curiously.  
  
“Eh…” Feliciano said, pondering. “Well, you remember that time you had that really bad case of influenza and you were laid up in bed for like a week? With the aching and the swelling and the headaches and the coughing and the sore throat? It’s like that. But for a _whole_ lot longer.”  
  
The Italian Prime Minister boss drummed his fingers on the table.  
  
“What do I do about this?” he asked.  
  
“Well, _you_ don’t do anything, _Presidente del Consiglio_ ,” Veneziano told him. “Well, you _do_ do things, but not like giving me medicine or something because that doesn’t work and the closest you can get is changing your fiscal and financial policies like forcibly adjusting the aggregate demand and the government expenditure and taxation to redistribute wealth and promote activity, and maybe changing the interest rates on government loans and raising or lowering tariffs depending on-”  
  
His brother threw a roll at him.  
  
“Shut up about the economy! And we’re part of the fucking EU! We don’t _do_ tariffs!”  
  
Feliciano blinked.  
  
“Oh, _right._ Well, _Signor_ Cantagalli, you’ll just have t-t-to-”  
  
He sneezed again.  
  
“Damn maritime trading republics,” Lovino muttered. “Think you know fucking _everything_ about economics.”

* * *

“But we could _use_ a good doctor at the UN. The one we have now keeps threatening to resign because of the things he has to put up with; and after that incident with Norway at the end of last session-”  
  
“Which I would like to repeat,” France stated. “Was _not_ my fault.”  
  
“ _Nothing_ is ever _your_ fault, is it?” England demanded, beating Rémy to the obvious comeback.  
  
“-I’m pretty sure he means it this time. _C’mon_ , Cato! You know ten languages-”  
  
“Not all of them fluently-”  
  
“- _plus_ the Mandarin you’re learning-”  
  
“I’m _definitely_ not fluent in that yet.”  
  
“-you’re a great doctor, you’ve been steeped in international politics since birth, _and_ you’re used to all the crazy stuff our families do! You’re _exactly_ the sort of doctor we need!”  
  
Dr. Agresti Carreido shook her head.  
  
 _“Catarina!”_ Zell Beilschmidt pleaded. _“Per favore!”_  
  
“You _know_ I can’t, Zell,” she said. “And why.”  
  
“We could pay you better than what you’re earning now! We need someone who won’t quit after two or three years because Russia pulled out the plumbing to figure it out again and made Bulgaria slip and crack his head open on the stairs while he was running away from France, who was only running in his direction because England was trying to curse him again!”  
  
 _“Hey!”_  
  
“But _Angleterre_ , it is a true story! You are the cause of all the trauma in my poor, tortured life- That was _not_ funny! Stop _laughing_ at me!”  
  
“That’s why the doctor before this one left!” Zell said. “Cato, you’re even smarter than Cassiel-”  
  
“And _I’m_ pretty smart,” the man in question replied from the next table over. He leaned between his cousin and Catarina, a book open in his hands. “You know what this means? _‘Fel at chroesa 'n fawr bellterau heb yn chwimio’_?”  
  
“Cass, I don’t know any Welsh.”  
  
The man shrugged.  
  
“Oh, well. I’ll have to buy a dictionary. These bits in Latin are pretty interesting, actually. Did you know that an incantation of _‘Venio videre victoriam’_ in a steady rhythm over the course of a minute will automatically-”  
  
“Wha- that’s _my_ book!” Arthur exclaimed. “Give that _back,_ you bloody _thief!_ ”  
  
“But your door was open and it was sitting right _there!_ ” Cassiel said innocently. “What’s the Welsh mean?”  
  
“You have an even _worse_ concept of personal space than your uncle!” England snapped, snatching his book back. “Do I have to talk to your mother about you _again?_ ”  
  
“So what’s the Welsh mean?”  
  
“ _‘How to travel large distances without moving’_ , all _right?_ Your mother is going to hear about your insolence as well!”  
  
“ _Really,_ Cass, you stole his spell book?” Cato murmured.  
  
“I copied out all the good bits already,” Cassiel confided to them in a whisper. “And it’s called a Grimorie. I’ll have to try them out later.”  
  
“ _Cassiel Pietri Beilschmidt-Navin,_ we are going to go talk to your mother _immediately!_ And no _human_ can do magic!”  
  
“I know you’re the one who took _Onkel_ Gilbert’s Katzbalger,” Zell hissed. “You should put it back before he notices!”  
  
“But it’s not fair that _Nia’s_ the only one who gets to play with the swords! And _Vater_ won’t mind- I borrowed his lockpicks, too.”  
  
“She’s _trained_ for it; she’s good enough to be going to Ankara in two years; of _course_ he’ll mind; and put those lockpicks _back!_ People _mind_ when you take their things without asking!”  
  
“And where does it say that humans can’t do magic?” Cassiel asked, finally getting out of his seat to accompany England to Israel.  
  
“ _I_ bloody well say so. I’ve seen enough of them fail to know!”  
  
“But I have Prussia for a father and Israel for a mother!” he protested. “Am I really strictly human?”  
  
“You _age,_ you have _real_ free will, and you’re definitely _not_ fae-born! You’re _human!_ ”  
  
“ _Angleterre, s'il vous plait_ \- shut _up_ about the fairies!”

* * *

“You could always come work for the EU, Cato,” Rémy said conversationally after England and France had stopped arguing about the relative existence or non-existence of fairies long enough to realize that Cassiel had dashed off to ask the wife of the Prime Minister of Thailand about the interesting designs on her dress and take pictures.  
  
“Stop working at cross-purposes with me!” his wife complained playfully.  
  
“Can’t let the UN have everything, Zell!” he replied, winking. “We wouldn’t even make you move. You could stay in Amsterdam and just show up when everyone has their meetings.”  
  
Catarina raised her eyebrows.  
  
“Well, you certainly make a more compelling offer than Zell here-”  
  
 _“Rémy!”_  
  
“I’m just a better negotiator, love.”  
  
“-but I’m really not interested. Commutes across countries aren’t something I want to deal with, and my husband, well-”  
  
“ _Nǐ hǎo_ , Dr. Carreido. Congratulations on your daughter.”  
  
Cato turned to China with a big smile on her face.  
  
“ _Nín hǎo, Zhōngguó. Xièxiè._ ”  
  
“Ah, you have added Mandarin to your repertoire!”  
  
“Marginally, _Zhōngguó_. I’m still learning.”  
  
Yao shrugged a little.  
  
“You are always learning a language as long as you speak it,” he said, and took France’s vacated chair. “So how is your daughter?”  
  
Cato glanced around.  
  
“Absolutely perfect. She screams for food every hour though, I _swear!_ She’s going to grow up quickly, I think. In the meantime, she just keeps her family up. We had to move her brother so he could sleep through a whole night.”  
  
China chuckled.  
  
“Light sleeper?”  
  
“No. Loud baby. Even when she’s not demanding something she makes noises. She never stops trying to speak, just like her father.”  
  
Yao glanced down at the table.  
  
“Is he- loud, then, too?”  
  
“Not particularly. Just opinionated. It got him into trouble once.”  
  
“I remember- hearing about that.”  
  
Cato glanced around again. The President of China was all the way across the room, mingling carefully with the American President’s family.  
  
“I have a picture,” she said, taking it out of her wallet and handing it to him.  
  
Yao gazed longing at it before turning the photograph over.  
  
 _‘Fabrizia Vita Shi Wang’_  
  
“She’s a very beautiful baby,” he told Cato as he handed it back.  
  
Catarina smiled slightly.  
  
“ _Xièxiè_.”

* * *

“Ah, _de nada_!” Spain said, waving away the thanks. “Really.” (no problem)

“But I, like, _totally_ needed that loan,” Poland insisted. “I could hook you up with a _fabulous_ dress for Catarina!”

Antonio sighed wistfully.

“I don’t think I’d be able to get her to wear it…”

He seemed lost in thought for a moment, then brightened.  
  
“Hey, Gilbert, do you think if we asked Francis- Gilbert, why are you glaring at Japan’s Prime Minster? I know it’s a little rude of her to be reading under the table like that, but-”  
  
“She’s reading That _Verdammt_ Book!” his friend exclaimed, banging his fist on the table.  
  
“I’m going to go-!”  
  
“ _No no no no Polonia!_ ” Spain exclaimed quickly, grabbing his arm. “ _Mein Kampf_ is ‘That _Scheiβkerl Österreichers_ Book’! ‘That _Verdammt_ Book’ is- is- Gilbert, what _is_ ‘That _Verdammt_ Book’ again?”  
  
“The _American_ one!”  
  
“ _Which_ American one?”  
  
“The _slanderous_ one!”  
  
“That doesn’t help, like, _at all,_ ” Poland pointed out, calming down.  
  
“I can’t walk around Rome anymore without some damn _tourist_ asking me about the Priory of Sion!”  
  
 _“Oh,”_ Antonio said, revelation dawning. “ _That_ one.”  
  
“ _That_ one!” Feliks said angrily.  
  
“The fuck do _I_ know about Priories?” Prussia demanded. “ _I_ lived in a hospital!”  
  
“I sincerely hope that you didn’t tell the tourists that, _amigo._ ”  
  
“I _hate_ that book,” Poland agreed.  
  
“It was rather silly,” Spain said. “But I liked the second one.”  
  
Gilbert and Feliks glared at him.  
  
“You _read_ them?”  
  
“Didn’t _you?_ ”  
  
“Saw the movies,” Gilbert muttered into his drink. “The Vatican Secret Archives _don’t_ look like that. They’ve _never_ looked like that.”  
  
“They are a disgrace to the Holy Church!” Feliks declared.  
  
“Yeah- let’s burn it! Toño, go distract her for us while we steal it!”  
  
“ _Dla Kościoła!_ ”  
  
“Gilbert, I really don’t think Cristoforo would approve of this. He _likes_ books.”

* * *

Russia listened to the commotion growing behind him with apparent joy.

“Ah, Gilbert is being troublesome again!”

“I am going to go stop that _ingrate_ from ruining the party!”

Hungary rolled her eyes.

“All right, dear. You go do that. Insult him back as good as you get.”

“Ms. Héderváry? What’s wrong with Austria?”

Erzsébet turned her attention back to one of the young women seated at her table.

“He’s just worried- Janós is off training in Lichtenstein and Roderich always gets testy whenever he knows his son is on the slopes. But let’s keep talking about _you._ ”

“Are you _sure_ that I’m really not supposed to be heartbroken right now?” Honda Tomoko asked worriedly.

“Tommi, Tommi, Tommi,” Gödze said, shaking her head. “Don’t you remember dating? You dump the ones who don’t work.”

“Politely,” Japan mentioned.

“Only _some_ of them, Kiku,” Hungary said. “Some of them you scream obscenities at until they leave your house.”

“But-”

“Look, it _happens_ that way sometimes, okay?”

“But we were _married,_ ” Tomoko said, doubt clear on her face.

“Sometimes it doesn’t work,” Hungary told her.

“But I loved him.”

“What help am I here?” Russia asked himself. “I have always had a good life with Abby.”

“You are present because the talented people who planned this beautiful party desired you to be seated here,” Japan reminded him.

“But I would like to help!”

“I know I loved him when I married him,” Tomoko said. “Shouldn’t I be collapsed in tears right now because he’s gone?”

“You fell in love with each other, you got married,” Gödze told her. “You fell out of love, you’re getting divorced. Simple.”

“But he yelled at me a lot, and I’m not hurt by it!”

“You have to care about it before it can hurt you,” Erzsébet pointed out. “Emotionally, anyway.”

“But I _do_ care about him! I just- I don’t love him anymore! I think. _He_ doesn’t, anyway.”

“You should be angry at this man for yelling at your beloved daughter, _da_?” Ivan asked Kiku.

“I _had_ considered paying a visit to my son-in-law to express my displeasure in a very pointed and impolite manner.”

 _“Aha!”_ Ivan exclaimed. “I could be helpful and give advice on ways to do this!”

“I thank you for your generous offer, Russia, but I really _must_ graciously decline.”

“ _Otōsan_ , you could just _say_ that you wanted to go to his apartment with your _tantō_ and practice on him.” (Father, samurai knife)

“That would be an inaccurate representation of my mental state at the time, Tomoko.”

“How much worse than that was it?” Hungary asked. There was a little too much interest in her voice.

“I-I-I-It was _not_ worse than that, _Hangarī-san_!” (Ms. Hungary)

“Yes it _was,_ you’re slipping into your honorifics again!” Erzsébet declared in triumph. “Greece finally convinced you drop that _decades_ ago!”

Tomoko and Gödze looked at each other, and mutually decided that the conversation was lost.

“So… _Dyadya_ Vanya,” Gödze said, turning to Ivan. “Chechnya-”

“No politics at the table.”

* * *

Estonia exited the party out onto the balcony that overlooked his city.  
  
“Alcohol?” he asked, closing the big glass doors. “I mixed up some _Sirp ja vasar_ , but Timo spat it out all over the floor and screamed not to drink it, so I haven’t been passing it around.”  
  
Toris sighed heavily and took two glasses.  
  
Eduard put the tray with the rest of the drinks down on a small table and leaned against the balcony railing next to Lithuania with his own glass.  
  
“Natalya is lying near death in Minsk right now,” he said quietly, his voice almost mixing in with the muffled party noises from the inside. “Why aren’t I there?”  
  
“Because this is an important international event,” Eduard reminded him, watching as his breath fogged in the freezing night air. “And you can’t shut out the rest of the world just because your family’s hurt you.”  
  
“First it was Roz, and then Tasha, and now Pavel,” Toris said miserably.  
  
“I’d heard.”  
  
“What’s so great about _Russia_ , anyway?” his friend asked, finishing off one of his cocktail glasses.  
  
“Well,” Eduard said, smirking. “We wouldn’t have a good name for the drink that hits you on the head and cuts off your legs.”  
  
“That wasn’t funny.”  
  
“Yes it was. Admit it.”  
  
“And Ivan just- just _sits_ there!” Toris continued. “Like he’s done nothing wrong, like my ex- my _wife_ isn’t dying because of him and like he hasn’t stolen my son!”  
  
"Toris-"  
  
“ _Aš nekenčiu jam_ ,” he muttered. “And the world hates me.”  
  
“The world doesn’t hate you, Toris,” Eduard said.  
  
Lithuania dropped his second empty cocktail glass over the side of the balcony.  
  
“But whoever gets hit with _that_ might hate you.”  
  
“There’s no one down there, Eduard. I looked.”  
  
“Which ‘he’ did you mean? Russia for what’s happened or Pavel because of what he did?”  
  
“I don’t know!” Toris exclaimed. “One of them! _Both_ of them!”  
  
Estonia tapped his fingers on the railing as Lithuania grabbed two more cocktails.  
  
 _I’ll have to keep track of those. Make sure he doesn’t drink too much._  
  
“Ivan isn’t responsible for Pavel’s choice, Toris.”  
  
“I know,” the other man said. “But he’s responsible for _Tasha!_ ”  
  
“No again. That’s their governments.”  
  
“Will you just _let_ me be angry, Estonia?”  
  
“Go ahead and be angry. Just don’t blame the wrong people.”

* * *

“Never thought I’d share something with France,” Lithuania said after a little while of listening to the late-night city sounds.

“None of us ever thought we’d have children, either,” Eduard replied. “And given the way it’s worked out for some of us, I think I’m glad I _didn’t._ ”

“It _hurts_ when they defect. You can feel them from the moment they’re born, and then one day they just decide that they don’t- they don’t _love_ you anymore, and they _leave._ It’s like feeling them die.”

“At least you won’t feel Pavel _really_ die, Toris.”

“But that’s still something for _me_ to have!” he said, his tone a little desperate. “He’s _my_ son! Russia shouldn’t get that- that… _privilege._ ”

 _“Privilege?”_ Eduard asked doubtfully.

“Whatever. You know what I mean.”

“Not really.”

“I thought I’d be better at this,” Toris admitted sorrowfully. “What happened?”

“Maybe we’re just too messed up to be good parents.”

“The others managed. _Russia_ managed.”

“You sound jealous of him, Toris.”

“He gets _everything!_ ” Lithuania spat bitterly. “He gets _Tasha_ and _Pavel_ and _power_ and a wife and son who actually _loves_ him!”

“And a bunch of shitty governments,” Estonia put in, continuing the list. “And fear, and hatred, and a cracked mind. You don’t _want_ what he has, Toris.”

“Yes I do.”

“ _Please_ don’t say that,” Eduard whispered.

“I’m _sick_ of this, Eduard, I _really_ am.”

Estonia pushed himself off the balcony railing and straightened up.

“There are people who care about you, Toris,” he said. “And worry about you. Feliks and Raivis both care. Gilbert still does too, even if he calls Germany his brother now. _I_ care about you, and right now you’re worrying me a _lot._ I _hope_ it was just the Vana Tallinn talking, though.”

Lithuania ignored him.

“Toris?”

Lithuania took another glass.

 _That’s five he’s had now,_ plus _whatever he drank before coming out here._

“That’s enough alcohol for _you_ tonight,” Eduard said, picking up the tray. “And I’ll be telling the barman and the servers that, too, _Vend_.”

“ _Finland’s_ your brother.”

“You’ve been drinking as much as him tonight; how am _I_ supposed to tell the difference? I’ll see you at the competitions tomorrow. _Hea õhtul; ja õnn_.”

He left Toris starting, unseeing, at the distant light of the 2046 Tallinn Winter Olympics flame.

**Author's Note:**

> Kiitos (Finnish): Thanks  
> Hyvä vahva viina (Finnish) Some good strong viina  
> Ei enemmän viina (Finnish) No more viina  
> Perkele (Finnish): Fuck; also Damn and Hell  
> Sirppi ja vasara (Finnish): 'Hammer and sickle', the name of the cocktail  
> Älä juo sitä (Finnish): Don't drink it  
> Pääministeri on kuollut (Finnish): The Prime Minster is dead  
> Murhattu (Finnish): Murdered  
> Vikani (Finnish): My fault  
> Vikamme (Finnish): Our fault  
> Dio mi protegge (Italian): God protect me  
> Presidente del Consiglio (Italian): Italian Prime Minister  
> Signor (Italian): Mister/Mr.; when speaking to the man in question  
> Ei voi ratkaista (Finnish): Can't be solved  
> Ei votkaa (Finnish): Not vodka  
> Miy sestra (Ukrainian): My sister  
> Miy sestra ye umyraye (Ukrainian): My sister is dying  
> Hän on vankilassa; hän on murhaaja (Finnish): He's in jail; he's a murderer  
> Sydämeni (Finnish): My heart  
> Se satuttaa (Finnish): It hurts  
> Tee se pysäytä (Finnish): Make it stop  
> Poikani (Finnish): My son  
> Paska (Finnish): Shit  
> Nǐ hǎo (Mandarin): Hello; to colleagues, friends, and children  
> Nín hǎo (Mandarin): Hello; to authority, superiors, and elders  
> Zhōngguó (Mandarin): China  
> Xièxiè (Mandarin): Thank you  
> De nada (Spanish): No problem  
> Verdammt (German): Damn  
> Polonia (Spanish): Poland  
> Scheiβkerl Österreichers (German): Motherfucking Austrian's  
> Amigo (Spanish): Friend  
> Dla Kościoła (Polish): For the Church  
> Otōsan (Japanese): Father  
> Tantō (Japanese): a Samurai's knife, ranging from six inches to a foot long (15-30 cm), that the American army based their knives off of.  
> Hangarī (Japanese): Hungary  
> -san (Japanese): an honorific suffix meaning 'Mr.', 'Mrs.', or 'Ms.'  
> Dyadya (Ukrainian): Uncle  
> Sirp ja vasar (Estonian): 'Hammer and Sickle'  
> Aš nekenčiu jam (Lithuanian): I hate him  
> Vend (Estonian): Brother  
> Hea õhtul; ja õnn (Estonian): Good night; and good luck
> 
>  
> 
> Koskenkorva Viina- a brand of Finnish vodka with an average 38 percent alcohol content  
> Akvavit- alcohol flavored with spices and herbs; made primarily in Norway and Sweden, with a 40 percent alcohol content (80 Proof)  
> 'Hammer and Sickle': named, of course, for the Russian Communist symbol. Made with Vana Tallinn and Russian sparkling wine, and extremely alcoholic.  
> Vana Tallin: An Estonian brand of alcohol that comes in 80, 90, and 100 Proof varieties (40, 45, and 50 percent alcohol content) with a sweet taste. Popular in Estonia, Lithuania, Latvia, Russia, and Finland.  
> "Don't drink it!"- 'Hammer and Sickle's' high alcoholic content mixed with the sweet taste of the Vana Tallinn means people can get very, very drunk very quickly on it without noticing, making it easy to suffer from severe alcohol poisoning and/or death.  
> The full title of the Presidente del Consiglio is Presidente del Consiglio dei Ministri (President of the Counsel of Ministers of the Republic of Italy). Presidente del Consiglio is just easier to say; and is commonly translated as 'Prime Minister' to simplify things.
> 
> Maritime trading republics- referring to Venice's time as the Maritime Republic of Venice, which had a trading empire on the Mediterranean for a while, before they were beat out by the Ottoman Empire and ended up replaced by Genoa.  
> Katzbalger- a German Renaissance-era one-handed sword designed for knights. The favorite sword of the Landsknechte (German mercenary pikeman and footsoldiers).  
> Toño- Spanish diminutive of Antonio  
> 'That Verdammt Book' is, of course, Dan Brown's The Da Vinci Code. The main villain is an albino man who works for an organization called the 'Priory of Sion', supposedly controlled by people in the Vatican. There are actually people who go to Rome and other places mentioned in the book (series) to find the clues and codes and what-have-you for themselves. Hence why Gilbert is so incredibly annoyed.  
> There are plenty of Catholics who don't like what the book says about the Church, mostly because Dan Brown asserts that the codes and the Priory of Sion and all those things are/were actually real (despite the fact that they were made up by a Frenchman named Pierre Plantard in 1956, who planted the 'clues' and 'evidence' to gain publicity for himself). Poland is a very Catholic country, so...
> 
> The book Spain mentions is 'Angels and Demons'. The movie has some great shots of Rome. You should watch it.  
> The Teutonic Knights guarded and ran a hospital during the Siege of Acre during the Third Crusade.  
> Mein Kampf is, for anyone who didn't know, the book Hitler wrote.  
> "The drink that hits you on the head and cuts off your legs"- This is actually how people describe 'Hammer and Sickle'  
> Tallinn- Capital of Estonia  
> Brothers- Estonians are a Finnic people


End file.
